Releasing the Sword of Damocles
by CreepyReaper
Summary: The Fall of the Ancients. One shot. OC


**8,240 B.C.**

The blues and greens of Hyperspace passed outside the massive window of the mighty Ancient ship as it plowed its way through to its destination. Frenzied crew members sprinted down brightly lit hallways. Power in levels seen in few other places in the universe surged through the ship's veins to safeguard its crew.

On the bridge almost a dozen Ancients sat at various terminals. The fluid movements of their hands were a blur as they prepared for battle, one which would help decide the fate of the race that had survived the Ages.

One such Ancient sat in the Command Chair in the middle of the room with his Second in Command standing beside him. The man had an aura of command around him. His graying hair and scarred face betrayed a long life of violence and pain. His white uniform clung tightly to a body honed through decades of fighting. When he spoke it was with confidence and authority.

"How long?" He didn't need to specify. Everyone gathered knew what came next. The Officer who answered was sitting at one of the terminals closer to the front of the bridge. She had long blonde hair tied into a neat bun on top of her head and was described by many humans simply as a Goddess.

"The fleet will exit Hyperspace in thirty seconds. All ships are reporting green across the board. Weapons Chairs are manned and ready, Pulse Cannon Batteries are fully charged, and power systems are performing at nine hundred percent normal capacity. Fleet is ready, Admiral."

The Admiral only nodded silently. He activated the Warship's communication package from his chair and spoke. His voice echoed through every ship in the fleet.

"This is the Admiral. In a few short seconds we will exit hyperspace. When we arrive, we will face the Scourge of our Kind. We will destroy them, for we have no other choice. If we are unable to accomplish our mission, then Atlantis will fall, and our race will die. We have survived through the Eons, but the future comes down to this moment. It is time for for us to once again show the Universe why we are the Greatest of the Four Races!"

Without another word the communication ceased. The countdown on the Navigation Console reached zero and the beautiful vision of non-space was interrupted by a field of stars. Four ships, ranging from two and a half to almost four kilometers long, returned to real space. In seconds a green planet filled the view screen of the Ancient Flagship.

On the ground rested hundreds of half-constructed hulls of all kinds. Above the surface almost a hundred massive purple ships floated in lazy arcs.

"How many?" The Admiral asked calmly as the crew gasped.

"Nineteen Hive Ships and over a hundred Cruisers. Detecting Dart launches." The Wraith ships began to spew small spacecraft our of bays across their hulls. The Hives, Cruisers, and fighters all accelerated towards the Ancient Fleet, intent on destroying their hated enemy.

"Execute." The word was almost a whisper. The hope of the entire Lantean civilization depended on this moment. Without waiting the Lantean warships maxed out their newly upgraded sublight engines and flew towards their adversaries.

Drones erupted from their launchers and swarmed the terrible bringers of Death. Energy Batteries activated and began their merciless assault on the unshielded vessels. Yellow Drones, Red Energy pulses, and Blue Wraith Weapons fire crossed the quickly shrinking space between the two mismatched Fleets. If it were not the fate of the very Galaxy itself at stake the display would have been considered glorious in its beauty.

However, even with all their superior technology, the Lantean Quartet was too badly outnumbered. Wraith Darts and Ancient Gateships fought in viscous dogfights as their motherships engaged in duels to the death.

More and more Wraith died well-deserved deaths, and the Lantean shields dropped lower and lower. The Potentia pumped more and more power to over-taxed emitters and rapidly emptying Drone Bays.

The barrage of Wraith fire against the shields of the Ancients became so dense the ships became almost impossible to see through the shimmering force fields. On board the bridge of the Ancients' flagship crew members avoided overloading power conduits while trying to continue their duties.

"Admiral, we can't take much more of this! Shields are down to forty percent and another half dozen Hives have moved from the _Hippaforalkus_ and have entered weapons range. Our emitters are burning out!" The Officer's warning was ended by an explosion of sparks coming from the Weapons Console.

The Admiral's face became a tangle of worry lines. Stress and concern overcame him and his knuckles were white from his attempts to stay in his chair. This wasn't how it was supposed to happen. The Hives were supposed to be on the surface. There weren't supposed to be this many Cruisers or Darts.

"How? How did they know we were coming?" He looked around in a panic at the Officers until his eyes landed on his Second who was standing with a self satisfied and smug smirk on his face.

"Captain Loyola, what are you smiling at!" the Lantean man shouted in a fit of rage. Captain Loyola slowly looked over at his superior. The smirk never left his face.

"I'm smiling because the time has come for the Wraith to take their rightful place as the Masters of this Galaxy. I'm smiling because I will be the one to teach them. And I am smiling because you are all about to die." The bridge was completely silent save for emergency alarms and the sounds of overloading circuits.

A small smile appeared on the Admiral's face. The worry lines and stress left immediately. With a nod the Weapons Officer's hand returned to the console and activated a single button on the screen.

In seconds the doors flew open and a dozen black-clad Security Officers swarmed the Captain and restrained him. The smug look had disappeared from his face when he saw the smiles appear on the faces of his fellow Lanteans.

"What are you all smiling at? You know you're going to die! My arrest won't change that!" The Admiral approached him and looked him in the eye.

"You didn't really think we didn't know, did you? Come now, Captain, are you really such a fool?" The Admiral stopped walking barely a foot away from the man who had turned his back on his Brothers and Sisters.

" Your biggest mistake was trying to transmit from Troy. Only an idiot would send a subspace data burst from a City Ship. Although, I suppose I should thank you. If it weren't for you and your misinformation campaign, this moment never would have happened. Lieutenant Marsius, please contact Commander Nargo and tell her she may now join the party."

The Lieutenant nodded and returned to the Communications Console. Seconds later two hyperspace windows appeared over the now undefended Wraith world. A pair of Lantean Battleships emerged and began to bombard the surface. Tens of thousands of Drones poured out and headed towards the surface. The red lights of Pulse Cannon fire followed them and began to turn the surface of the world to an uninhabitable wreck.

A horrified look came over the Traitor's face as he watched the carnage unfold. When the Security Officers started shoving him towards the Brig he began to shout. "It won't change anything in the end! It is the Wraith's turn now!"

The closest Hive ships and Cruisers tried to save their shipyards but were met by a new wave of destruction. A swarm of previously cloaked Gateships appeared in the middle of empty space and let loose their own deadly cargo.

The dozens of tiny ships fired their armament of a dozen Drones each and cloaked again before the Wraith could respond. The sudden attack distracted the ships while they attempted to defend themselves on the newest front.

The Wraith Fleet, caught between pursuing the retreating Lantean Fleet or trying to save as much of their shipyards as possible began to fracture. Hives and Cruisers broke from the previously organized attack formation and became a jumbled mess.

Lantean weapons continued to contribute even as the three remaining undamaged original ships crowded around the crippled _Hippaforalkus_ they fired the last of their depleted Drone supplies and their Pulse Cannons. Drones and Energy Pulses reached out and destroyed engines, weapons, and Darts. Explosions and debris filled the space above the planet.

"Admiral, Commander Nargo has sent word that the Wraith shipyards have been destroyed. She is engaging the nearest Wraith vessels." The Ancient Admiral shook his head.

"No. Tell her to empty her Drone Stores as quickly as possible into the Wraith and immediately jump to Hyperspace. Have the _Hyperius_ dock with _Hippaforalkus_ and tow it with us. We'll drop it off at Taranis on our way back. As soon as the ships are ready set course."

The Navigation Officer nodded and turned back to her post. In under a minute the maneuverable Lantean ships were ready. Green windows in space appeared and, with a flash of light, the Fleet was gone. The only evidence that Lanteans had ever been there were the wrecked hulls of almost sixty Wraith ships floating above the surface of a dead world.

Eight Hours Later

Atlantis,

Capitol of Lantean Domain

The Lantean Council was sitting in the Council Room while they waited for the Admiral who had delivered them their latest victory; their biggest in years. Soon, footsteps were heard outside and the doors swiveled open to allow a man wearing an Aegis uniform. The doors closed behind him as he scanned their faces.

He recognized them all; Melia of Troy, Moros of Atlantis, Cynrrid of Athosia, Tristac of Sikyon, and Ganos Lal of Atlantis. They looked at him with varying emotions. They seemed to be split between anger and sadness.

High Councilor Moros was the first to speak. "Admiral Dosa, its good to have you with us again. Are you ready to present your report?" The Admiral nodded.

"The operation was a success. The Wraith Shipyards and Staging Area at Hadescus has been completely destroyed. Nine Hive ships were destroyed and another three damaged. Nineteen Cruisers destroyed and twenty-eight damaged. They won't be able to launch another system-wide assault on Lantea for quite some time. The heavy cruiser _Hippaforalkus _was heavily damaged. I left it at Taranis for repairs." His voice was strong with conviction and the belief in his words. Moros looked unimpressed.

"Very good, Admiral. We are very pleased to hear that." His words were kind but his voice exposed his insincerity. Dosa cocked his head to the side.

"High Councilor, is there something I haven't been informed of?" Moros and Councilor Melia shared a brief glance. Mercifully, the much more sincere Melia answered him.

"Admiral, in your absence it has been decided that the plan to send a Peace Delegation to Wri will take place. You have been given two days to assemble a force to escort our Diplomatic Vessel." Admiral Dosa tensed. His eyes hardened and he glared at Moros.

"High Councilor, as I know this is your doing, I will speak to you directly. This plan will not work. It never _would _have worked, and it never _will_ work." Moros stared back at him, unmoved. Dosa scanned the faces of the other Councilors but they had looks of either resigned sadness or indifference. He took this as a signal to continue.

"The Wraith do not want Peace. They do not want to coexist. What they want is the one thing we cannot allow them; food. If it were any other Race we would be able to stand by and allow them to exist. But they are not any other Race; they are a plague and their very existence means the deaths of ourselves and our charges."

The High Councilor thought for a moment, and for one fleeting instance Dosa hoped that he had gotten through. However, the Counselor quickly squashed that hope. Moros had been pushing for this plan for years and only military successes had managed to stave it off, but now even that didn't seem to be enough.

His only true hope had been the other members of the Council; if unanimous the other four Councilors could overrule the High Councilor. He knew Ganos Lal, Melia, and Cyrrnid agreed with him. The women, despite the fact they hadn't lost their own homeworlds, had a hate of Wraith that he greatly respected.

Cyrrnid despised the Wraith like no other Councilor. When Athosia had fallen, he had attempted to gain access to a Gateship to join the battle himself. If not for the Wraith tactic of dialing the Astria Porta during an attack, he would have gladly died to protect his family.

Tristac was a different story altogether. Immediately before the Battle of Sikyon, Aegis Command had pulled half the defending fleet from orbit to defend the Arcadian Shipyards. When the Wraith fleet heading to Arcadia changed course to Sikyon, it destroyed the defending ships and culled the planet before the others could return. Tristac blamed the military.

Without Tristac's support, which he clearly didn't have based on the indifferent look he was giving the ceiling, Dosa wouldn't be able to stop this latest proposition. Moros looked back at Dosa and shook his head.

"This Council disagrees. In two days I expect our escorts to be ready. Dismissed." Dosa straightened and hit his left shoulder with his right fist in a perfect Lantean Salute. He spun on his heels as the Lantean Council continued on to other issues.

The doors closed behind him and he immediately slammed his fist into the wall. The two soldiers guarding the Council Room jumped slightly at the sudden display of anger. They shot their commander questioning looks but he ignored them as he stalked off.

He walked angrily to the Tower Dispensary. He hadn't eaten since his ships had left Taranis and he was hungry. When he arrived he grabbed water and a Nutrition Pack. He stepped onto the balcony and sat at the table with the best view. Other than him the balcony was deserted.

While he was eating he pulled out his small hand held computer and began looking through the status of his ships. It was no longer a very long list. Only about a dozen ships remained from the four hundred-plus Fleet from before the Wraith War.

In all honesty it was a pretty pathetic sight; The only Battleships he still had were the _Hyperius_, the _Domivaitus_, and the _Clio_. A week ago there had been four but in their infinite wisdom the Council had sent the _Aurora_ to retrieve a data packet from one of the last Research Stations in the Galaxy and they had lost all contact with it.

It was a stupid idea. The Battleships could fight a dozen Hive Ships and survive but they weren't built for speed. Missions like that were given to Light Cruisers for a reason. Not only that, but the _Aurora _had just returned from a battle above a Wraith supply depot and had suffered severe damage, damage that hadn't been sufficiently repaired before its departure.

If he had been there it wouldn't have happened. They wouldn't have lost a ship and would have the information. The rest of the fleet was composed of Cruisers, seven Heavy Cruisers and a trio of Light Cruisers. Of all thirteen ships remaining only nine were fit for battle. He decided he would send only four Heavy Cruisers. They'd be able to handle several Hives and escorts long enough for the Diplomatic ship to escape, hopefully with the escorts following closely behind it.

He just had to ask for volunteers. No way would he ever order his Captains to such a fate as this. He knew what was going to happen, even if Moros refused to see it. It didn't matter at this point, though. Even if he refused the order, he'd simply be arrested and replaced by someone less competent. No, he would follow his orders like the soldier he was and hopefully pull their collective asses out of the inferno that was sure to follow.

Dosa was so engrossed with his computer and lunch he didn't notice when a lone, dark haired woman stepped onto the balcony and joined him at his table. It was only when she cleared her throat that he looked up.

She was certainly pretty. He dark hair dropped to her shoulders and her clothing clung tightly to her form.

"Hello." She said with a smile. It seemed genuine, a rare sight in these Dark days. He returned a small smile of his own.

"Hello. And you are...?"

"Dr. Elizabeth Weir." She answered politely. He perked up at her name. Weir. That sounded familiar.

"You wouldn't be the human from the future, would you?" He asked sharply. She seemed taken aback by that, but nodded.

"One in the same. I'm sorry, did I interrupt something?" Dosa looked her over. She seemed genuine, he couldn't see any deception in her.

"No, its just that I heard what you told the Council. To be perfectly honest, I don't like the future you depicted." His voice softened, but still had an edge of resentment. He knew it wasn't her fault. The phrase 'Don't kill the Messenger' came to mind.

"I'm sure much of the City shares your feelings. And you are?" Dosa hesitated. Very few people approached him. Even fewer did so of their own free will. He wasn't known as a very pleasant man to keep in your company, but a fresh face was still nice.

"Admiral Markus Dosa, Commander of the Lantean Aegis." Dr. Weir blinked. A hint of shock came over her face.

"Oh, well, its a pleasure to meet you, Admiral Dosa." The way she spoke conveyed something else. He smirked.

"I see you've heard of my reputation." She returned her smile and nodded.

"Yes, I have. It seems many of those around here seem to refer to you as quite...unpleasant." She lowered her eyes in something resembling embarrassment. He waved it off.

"Yes, well, I must admit I did cultivate a few of the more unsettling rumors myself." He chuckled back. Her eyes returned to his, full of amusement.

"I'm assuming the one about killing a Wraith Queen by forcing one of her own guards to feed on her is your doing?" Dosa raised his eyebrows and smirked but didn't respond. After a moment Dr. Weir turned her attention to the small tablet in his hands.

"May I ask what it is you are working on?" Dosa looked back at his computer and frowned. Dr. Weir noticed his change of emotion but remained silent. A moment of silence passed before the Lantean sighed.

"I'm working on what could very well lead to the downfall our civilization." Before the woman could press him he continued.

"You see, Dr. Weir, the-"

"Elizabeth, please." She interrupted him. He nodded and continued.

"Very well. You see, Elizabeth, the Lantean Council has come to the conclusion that the only hope we have of surviving the war against the Wraith is to negotiate. Their plan will fail and it is very likely any ships sent will be destroyed. I don't even have ten operational ships and they want me to send almost half of them to their deaths."

Elizabeth nodded silently. Her gaze became sympathetic. Electing for a slight change of subject she took control of the conversation.

"How exactly did the Wraith come about? I have asked but what information I've been given has been rather vague." Dosa closed his eyes and lowered his head. After several seconds he glanced back at her before he turned his head to look out at the setting Lantean sun. The sky was truly beautiful. Reds and oranges colored the sky and only the smallest and thinnest of clouds were visible.

"There is a reason that no one has told you anything specific about the Wraith. That reason is they were our fault. Every death caused by them is our responsibility. There is blood on our hands, Elizabeth, and nothing we do now can ever rinse it off."

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><p><strong>Okay guys tell me what you think. <strong>


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